


lucid (you might be sleeping)

by purplenoon



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Aged-Up Character(s), Bottom Gon Freecs, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Killua is Gon's Light, M/M, Post-Canon, Potential Sleep Disorder, Scent Infatuation, Smut, gon_needs_reassurance.mp4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:08:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26823421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplenoon/pseuds/purplenoon
Summary: In which Gon needs Killua’s scent to soothe the ache of his absence, and Killua just wants Gon to sleep.(Or: Killua discovers Gon’s habit of borrowing his clothes when he leaves for solo jobs.)
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 29
Kudos: 329





	lucid (you might be sleeping)

**Author's Note:**

> “ _I’m tired, can’t think of anything and want only to lay my face in your lap, feel your hand on my head, and remain like that through all eternity_.”
> 
> **Warning:** Run-on sentences like you wouldn't believe. Also, this fic does include a semi-explicit smut scene at the end, and it leans heavily toward romance/lovemaking. Gon and Killua are written to be around 22 years old here.

Killua can’t help that his feet pick up their pace as he spots the familiar stretch of trees lining their block, the soft glow of his apartment building beckoning him closer.

He has known this apartment for two years now, and even a glimpse of it could quell any growing anxiety or restlessness he was feeling, the comforting warmth of his apartment now a welcoming home. 

A home he shares with Gon.

Killua feels the weight of his exhaustion settle into every crevice of his body, two weeks traveling on his own without a place to rest manifesting in his every move. But the pain in his right foot, the strain in his back, the tension in his shoulders seem to become more faint, more distant as he nears his destination, his eagerness to be home drastically surpassing any lingering fatigue. 

Right now, his body aches with something else entirely, something that’s not always easy for him to admit out loud, something related to bronze skin littered with freckles, a bright smile, and wide amber eyes.

His solo job was a spontaneous decision on his part, partly due to his desire to take advantage of Yorknew City’s numerous job opportunities for Hunters, the reason for their move to the city. 

In the privacy of his thoughts, he acknowledges that he also wants to make sure he, Gon, and Alluka were as comfortable as possible, that they could avoid the stress of living expenses as much as he could help it, so sometimes he put a little more on his plate than what was needed.

But he had forgotten the massive toll that working alone could take, both on his physical and mental health. In his time away, Killua had only slept in an actual bed for three nights in total, the majority of his time dedicated to tracking and following a wanted criminal apart of a larger drug trafficking circle. Easy pay for easy work, in his mind. 

But it was always hard to part from Alluka and Gon, as much as he insisted otherwise.

Gon had initially offered, practically begged, to travel with him and assist with his work, _to make sure he didn’t become too lonely without him_ in Gon’s words, but Killua had insisted that Gon stay close to Alluka, who lived in an apartment near their own, in case she was in need of his company or support. 

Their comfort and safety was of greatest importance, always.

With a quick glance at his watch, Killua wonders if Gon had stayed awake waiting for him. It is much, much later than the time Gon typically sleeps but, following their reunion, Gon had a tendency of staying awake to greet him whenever he returned from being away for an extended period of time.

Before he had left, Killua had made sure to tell Gon explicitly that there was no need for this, that Gon’s sleep wasn’t worth putting in jeopardy when they could just see each other in the morning.

Of course, in the back of his mind, he admits he wouldn’t be that upset if Gon was still awake.

The apartment is still and quiet, Gon most likely tucked into bed, until Killua moves through the foyer and notices the light of the kitchen still on, illuminating a path previously obscured by the darkness. Killua can feel the crease in his brows smooth and a soft smile stretch on his lips at the implication.

“Gon?”

As he turns the corner and enters the kitchen, Killua continues gently, “Gon? Are you still awake? I told you, you don’t need to—” The words die on his lips as soon as he spots Gon, arms spread out on the kitchen table, head resting on his upper arm, deeply asleep. 

It feels almost instinctual how Killua’s hand comes up to brush back the hair falling over Gon’s brow, softly tracing down a flawless, freckled cheek and thumbing at the curve of Gon’s full upper lip. Gon looks relaxed, peaceful despite falling asleep on a stiff chair, upright. 

It’s hard to deny, Killua thinks to himself, that even in the yellowed light of the kitchen, Gon looks pretty, beautiful even, the glow of his skin and the sweep of his long lashes making Killua itch to touch.

But he still releases an exasperated sigh, trying to control the way his heart swells at the thought that Gon had once again tried to stay awake to see him, feeling conflicted by the gesture. 

He’d really rather Gon rest well, sleep uninterrupted and full.

Killua then reaches for Gon, too exhausted to consider anything other than curling around him in their shared bed, sliding one hand under Gon’s knees and the other under his upper back, tenderly lifting him into his arms and shutting off the kitchen light.

Holding Gon like this is a rare comfort in itself, and Killua takes his time walking through the dark expanse of their apartment. Gon is a solid presence against him, naturally relaxing into him with light, even breaths, and Killua is reminded once again how much he missed him while he was away.

Upon reaching the bedroom, Killua carefully places Gon on his side of the bed, Gon immediately sinking into the embrace of his pillow.

It’s all Killua can do to strip himself of his clothes, grimy from days of wear, and quickly rinse off in the shower. He knows Gon would never forgive him if he hopped into their bed after several days of not washing, and Killua wants to make sure he has every excuse tomorrow morning to not get out of bed. 

It’s when Killua is mindlessly brushing his teeth, blearily regarding his reflection in the mirror, that he feels arms wrap around his chest and a nose press between his shoulder blades. He feels more than hears the drowsy whine that Gon lets out, words slurred and sleep-laden.

“Killua, you should’ve woken me up!”

Killua chuckles despite himself, twisting his upper body to try to get a glimpse of spiky black hair, but he fails with how close Gon is holding him. “Idiot, you’re obviously half asleep. Go back to bed.” The _I’ll join you later_ left unsaid, but heavily implied.

Gon stubbornly remains glued to his broad form, softly mumbling a muffled, “But I missed you,” into his back, and Killua sighs, so fond, knowing he can’t do much to convince him differently.

With Gon resting against him, Killua hastily finishes his nightly routine, ready to finally settle in for the night. Toothbrush set back in its rightful place, he reaches for the hands wrapped around him, slowly turning around to fully look at Gon.

Gon’s eyes are mostly closed, cheeks swollen with the remnants of sleep, when Killua finally takes one of his hands and leads him back to their bed, Gon complying readily now that Killua is joining him. 

Killua is, unfailingly, endeared.

Killua climbs in after him and, with familiar ease, pulls Gon in close, slipping his arms around his waist, Gon finally in his hold after weeks, the feeling so overwhelmingly satisfying. And it’s almost comical how easily Gon tucks himself into his form, head pushed into Killua’s neck and arms wrapped around his chest, body melting against him without even a second of delay.

“Gon?” Killua whispers, his low voice echoing in the inky darkness.

But Gon doesn’t respond or shift, falling into sleep effortlessly, the movement of his chest deep and slow, breaths warm and humid against his skin.

With an exhale, Killua presses a slow kiss to the top of Gon’s head, tightening his hold and pressing Gon even closer, their legs tangling, and Killua feels the most relaxed that he has in days. 

Killua's sleep is unperturbed and dreamless.

Killua’s eyes flutter open in the morning light. His mind is still disoriented with sleep, stuck somewhere between dreams and reality, and he distantly notes that Gon hasn’t closed the curtains in their bedroom.

Killua’s curled tightly around another body, Gon’s back molded against his front, somehow pressed even closer than he was the night before. Dazedly, he brings a hand up to lightly smooth over Gon’s stomach, slipping under his sweater to stroke soft, bare skin, and he releases a content sigh in the space between Gon’s ear and neck. 

Killua is warm. 

The warmth spreads from the sunlight filtering through potted plants, their leaves blooming and spilling over the window sill, to the expanse of golden skin in front of him, to his own chest and down to the tips of his toes. Killua knows that Gon likes keeping the curtains open for this very reason, that he enjoys waking up to the rising sun, and even though Killua is outwardly against it most of the time, he admits that there’s something special about starting off the day to its light.

Killua doesn’t need the sun for that, anyway.

Briefly, Killua also contemplates that it’s quite rare for him to wake before Gon, but he quickly dismisses the thought, happy to allow Gon to continue resting, the rise and fall of his chest against him a lulling rhythm. 

After several minutes pass, Gon lightly shifts, his hand reaching for the one Killua repeatedly brushes against him, and takes a moment to process his surroundings. “Mm, Killua.”

Killua suppresses a smile. “Yes, Gon?”

“Hm, still sleepy.”

Killa hums lightly, happy that he’s positioned to easily hide his amusement, and waits for the inevitable outburst.

“Killua!” Gon startles in his sudden understanding, finally processing that Killua is _here_ , lying with him, holding him, safe and sound in their bed. He quickly turns around in his hold, glancing up at Killua with large, sparkling eyes, disheveled hair creating a wild halo around his head. “You’re back!”

“Yeah, I’m here.” Killua’s eyes soften, and he smiles down at Gon, his words softer than he intends. “Do you not remember anything from last night?”

“Last night?” Gon makes a noise of confusion, lips forming a subtle pout. “What time did you come in?”

“It’s not that important. Let’s just say you were happy to see me.”

“What does that even mean?” Gon’s face makes an even more puzzled expression, and Killua can’t control the snicker he lets out when he sees it. Gon’s eyebrows furrow further, and he lifts himself to sit directly on Killua, hands perched on his chest. “Are you making fun of me?”

Killua’s hands move without prompting, settling low on Gon’s hips and softly pinching the skin there, and he smiles coyly. “I would never.” 

“Jerk!” Gon flicks at Killua’s nose, smiling brightly and not doing much to conceal his joy, immediate and tangible, expression clearly betraying his words. “You just got back and you’re already bullying me.” 

“What can I say, you’re an easy target.”

Too delighted to feign annoyance, Gon’s face eases into something more fond, something more loving, and he leans in close to nuzzle his nose against Killua’s, his words a mere whisper. “I really missed you, you know.”

“I know.” Killua murmurs, smiling indulgently and lips finding Gon’s button nose to press a soft kiss there. “You said that last night.” 

“Hey!” Gon shoves at his chest, leaning away quickly in retaliation. “I’m staying away from you until you start being nice.”

Killua really laughs then, throwing his head back on his pillow with the force of it, mirth making his chest feel light and airy. “Okay, okay—I’ll stop.” Killua covers one of Gon’s hands with his own, threading their fingers together. “I really missed you, too.”

And then Gon’s lifting their intertwined hands, pulling them close to his face, pressing a soft kiss to Killua’s fingers and holding them against his cheek. “Really, when did you get in last night?” Gon’s eyebrows pinch in, smile sheepish. “I tried staying up to see you, but apparently that didn’t work out too well.”

“Late, late last night. You were half asleep when you greeted me. You know you practically ambushed me while I was brushing my teeth.” Killua feels a swell of satisfaction at the whine that Gon presses against his fingers and the flush that tinges Gon’s cheeks a light shade of red. “And—and I saw that you tried to stay up to see me. You know you don’t need to do that, right? But. I still appreciate it.”

“I know I don’t. I just wanted to see you.” Despite his flush darkening and extending to his ears, Gon beams down at him, his smile something bright and gorgeous, a dazzling thing that Killua feels like he can only look at in small doses or else he might become too overwhelmed. “I’m so happy you’re back.”

“Yeah? Me too, you sap.” 

It’s only when Killua slides his unoccupied hand back to Gon’s waist to resume his earlier ministrations that he finally recognizes what Gon is wearing. The sweater is noticeably worn, its navy color faded and patchy from years of use, and Killua’s able to see Gon’s collarbones from how stretched its neck is. It’s unmistakable—Gon is wearing Killua’s favorite sweater.

“Is that my sweater?”

“Huh?” Gon blinks, releasing Killua’s hand to grab at the fabric bunching around his waist. “You mean this?”

Killua makes a noise of affirmation, choosing to take this moment to observe Gon, and their bedroom, more closely. He finally takes in its state of disarray, how it’s a bit messier than Gon would typically leave it, that even more of his own shirts and hoodies are suspiciously strewn at the foot of the bed, the floor, and the chair nestled in the corner. 

His eyes shift upwards, back to Gon’s, and he notices the dark circles under Gon’s eyes, how they contrast sharply with his otherwise glowing skin, and he can feel worry already working its way up his throat, sometimes too observant for his own good. 

“Oh! Sorry, I know. It’s messy. I’ll make sure to clean it up later, okay?”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” Killua cups one of Gon’s cheeks, smoothing his thumb over the puffy skin under his eye. “Have you been getting enough rest?” 

“I’ve been sleeping fine.” Gon’s eyebrows knit together, his smile becoming bashful, donning a mask of happiness that Killua has become skilled in discerning over time, and his voice has adapted a strange sort of tone to it, strained and unsteady. “Everything—everything’s been good here!” 

“Gon, it’s okay if you’re not—” Killua frowns, glances at the uneasy set to Gon’s shoulders, the way his fingers clench and unclench against him, before sighing heavily in resignation. “If you say so.”

He knows he should ask more about it else his concern will continue to eat away at him. But Gon seems reluctant to talk about it right then and there, and Killua doesn’t want to press him too much, never eager to push on what Gon is willing to give, so he lets the subject drop. At least for now.

But the thought still persists, stubborn and troubling.

Killua chooses instead to smooth his hands over Gon’s thighs, playfully gripping the skin there. “Aren’t you gonna ask how my trip was?”

“Oh yeah!” Gon makes an excited noise and leans forward on Killua’s chest, eyes once again brightening, seemingly pleased to shift topics. “How was your job this time? Anything exciting happen?”

“There was nothing exciting about it—it was tedious like always.” Killua jokes, one of his hands traveling up, up, up until it's wrapping around the back of Gon’s neck, leading him down, closer to where he wants him. “I need lots of hugs to make up for it.” 

“Oh?” And it seems as though Gon knows exactly what it is that Killua is asking for, moving until he’s mere inches from Killua’s face, his lips settling into a teasing smile. “Only hugs?”

“I might accept other forms of payment,” Killua murmurs hotly against Gon’s lips, and he watches enraptured as Gon’s eyes flutter closed in expectation. Instead, Killua angles himself upward, kissing Gon on the forehead, a chaste press, before moving to his eyelids and freckled cheeks, the corner of his mouth, and finally, his lips.

Their kiss is unhurried and gentle and tender, a slow moving of lips, Killua focusing on how perfectly they slot together, fighting every urge to deepen the kiss into something heavier, _hungrier_. 

Gon pulls away slowly, looking close to laughing when Killua tries to feebly chase his lips, head flopping back onto the pillow with a huff. “Why don’t I make you breakfast?” 

“You, stay put!” Killua whines, his arms closing again around Gon in an attempt to keep him still, not wanting his fantasy of a lazy morning in bed to come to an abrupt end. “Shouldn’t I be more of your priority right now?”

Gon pauses, and something in his expression shifts, softens, so that he can brush a hand through the hair covering the brilliant blue of Killua’s eyes, fingers affectionately tucking white strands behind his ear.

“But Killua, you’re always my priority.” 

And Gon had said it so warmly, so sincerely, that Killua’s left sputtering, his eyes widening and his hold loosening by Gon’s sudden admission, always so affected by his blatant honesty. 

Gon, now free of his grip, clambers out of bed, his laughter echoing as he makes his escape to the kitchen.

This scene is one, Killua admits, that still confounds him, a part of his brain wholly convinced that this was all a vivid fantasy he had constructed in the depths of his mind. 

Gon is humming a soft tune, flitting around the laundry room, quickly folding clean laundry into messy stacks as the washing machine rumbles through its second cycle of the day. 

After breakfast had been polished off and dishes washed and put away, Gon had loudly announced that it was time for chores, rushing to pick up the small heap of laundry that had accumulated in their room in Killua’s absence. 

Killua, frustrated that his expectations for their morning together went awry and still wearied, had loudly complained about wanting to relax for longer, slinking off to find the comfort of their bed in childish protest. But he felt restless and bored, tossing and turning without Gon beside him, so he opts to watch Gon work instead, the freckled man too consumed by his tasks to notice Killua leaning on the door frame.

A younger Killua would have never believed that he would have ever been able to share a part of his life, a part of himself, so intimately with another, with _Gon_ , his best friend of a decade, the person he’s been in love with for years, the person who has loved him for years. 

And it’s taken a lot for both of them to get here. A lot of time apart, a lot of healing, a lot of crying and admitting and acknowledging and accepting. 

But he’s here now, so real, so radiant, and ready to give himself in ways that a younger Gon would have struggled with immensely.

And he’s wearing his sweater. Killua’s sweater. 

Gon fills out the sweater well enough, but in light of his shorter stature, its arms and the torso are a bit too long, sleeves hanging over the palms of his hands and the sweater’s hem brushing the tops of his thighs. 

_Cute_. 

It’s cute and domestic and so intimate that it sends tingles down the length of Killua’s spine. 

But also unfamiliar, new.

Killua’s not entirely sure why Gon wearing his clothing is affecting him as much as it is. Gon has tried on clothing of his before, his curiosity about Killua’s expansive wardrobe leading to several occasions where Gon had thoughtfully picked through his closet, adding commentary on the utility of his fashion choices.

(“ _But Killua, how do you know if you could hike 40 miles in this? It needs testing!_ ”)

But Gon is wearing his clothing, comfortably and casually and around their apartment like it was a trivial habit that he had recently taken up. 

And Killua guesses that maybe it could be, that maybe Gon had run out of clothes to wear and thrown on Killua’s as a last resort, until his mind once again recalls the piles of his clothes scattered around their bed, looking twisted and hurled, the vision of unrest. 

Gon also tended to be respectful of his personal boundaries and privacy, ever so polite, not often touching his personal belongings without Killua’s explicit knowledge and permission, and this fact only adds to Killua’s worry.

The thought continues to nag at him, burrows itself into the back of his mind, and he has an idea of what it might mean, but it still leaves his chest feeling knotted and muddled.

And he’s not sure if this is the right time to bring it up. He’s never sure when to ask Gon uncomfortable questions like this, always needing to plan for the right moment before asking Gon to put his vulnerabilities on display like fresh open wounds to be picked through and observed.

Deciding to make his presence known, Killua leaves his position by the doorway and steps close to Gon, wrapping him in his arms and nosing the slope of his neck, breathing in Gon’s light, refreshing scent deeply, not unlike a summer breeze.

Gon laughs lightly, still fixated on getting the fold of one of Killua’s turtlenecks correct, cheeks puffing out as his hands fail to manage the stretchy material into the right shape, but he leans his neck to one side to give Killua more room anyway, softening into his embrace.

“I thought you wanted to sleep for longer?”

“I did, but you’re warmer than the bed,” Killua mutters sluggishly, drowsiness once again creeping in now that Gon is so near. “And softer. You’re like a walking heating blanket.”

“And you’re heavy.” Gon giggles, attempting to reach for the next article of clothing but failing with Killua’s added weight. “You’re going to have to work with me here if you want me to finish doing the laundry.”

“Idiot, I told you—chores can wait.” Killua starts pressing slow kisses on the exposed skin of Gon’s neck, dutifully following the freckles forming intricate pathways on his skin. “Come back to bed.” 

Gon turns quickly in his hold, always so ready to absorb his affection like a sponge, and wraps his arms around Killua’s neck, lips forming a smug smile and eyes crinkling with his delight. “I knew you’d be lonely without me.”

“Shush, you.” Killua huffs, his reply lacking any real bite. Killua can feel Gon cup the back of his head, fingers working through his messy hair, scratching against sensitive nerve endings, and he fights against the urge to shutter his eyes in bliss, the sensation embarrassingly pleasant.

Killua’s hands, also having a mind of their own, begin fiddling with the hem of the sweater Gon’s wearing, his fingers smoothing back and forth over its stitched surface, its familiar cottony planes, its many loose threads. 

A beat of silence, and Gon’s hands still. 

Killua can sense that Gon has something to say, so he starts rubbing soothing circles into supple hips, waiting patiently.

“Does it bother you?” Gon breathes out, posture slightly stiffening, hands curling into the fabric of the shirt bunched around Killua’s shoulders, discomfort palpable. “The sweater. I really meant to wash and return it before you came back. I’m really sorry again for going into your things and next time I will make sure to—”

“Gon.” Killua interrupts, pausing and leaning back, wanting Gon to know that he’s not upset, that he could never be upset about something like this. He would give anything to Gon if he asked. “Of course it doesn’t bother me. You can borrow my clothes whenever you want. Honestly, I have too many.”

“Okay.” Gon shifts his eyes downward, opting for somewhere on the carpet instead, but it’s obvious how his body relaxes against Killua, tension releasing from his smaller form, thankfully relieved by Killua’s response. ”Just wanted to make sure.” 

Killua breathes in deeply, preparing himself for his next words, the next conversation that he’s not sure he’s equipped to navigate. 

“But, you seem pretty troubled by this. Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I promise.” Gon curls into Killua's shoulder, his words slightly muffled. “It’s just—this isn’t the first time. I mean, I’ve borrowed your clothes before when you’ve gone away.”

“And it’s okay, Gon. Really, I don’t mind.”

“I know," Gon whispers, voice uncharacteristically meek. Killua starts rubbing the small of the freckled man’s back, but doesn't reply yet, hoping that Gon feels comfortable enough to continue. ”It’s just, sometimes, I feel really lonely when you’re gone, and your clothes smell like you, so, when I really miss you, I borrow some.”

“I-I see.” Killua feels his face get hot, the warmth spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, the knowledge that Gon indulges in his scent a distracting thought, but he doesn’t want to derail the conversation in any shape or form, so he coughs, trying to quell his embarrassment through sheer will. “But that’s it? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Well...it felt kind of silly.” Gon lifts his head from his perch, but still refuses to look at him directly. “But lately, it’s been affecting my sleep. Some nights when you’re not here, I can’t sleep. At all. And your scent makes me feel calm, like you’re here. So, when what I’m wearing stops smelling like you, I grab more of your clothes, and, um, try to sleep with them.”

“I had no idea you ever had trouble sleeping at night. You seem to sleep pretty well when I’m around.”

“Of course I do!” Gon breathes out, eyes wide and insistent. “You’re warm and soft and comforting and—and with me.” His hands pick at a loose thread on Killua’s sleeve, hesitating. “But when you’re gone, I can’t help but worry that—that you’re not coming back. That you don’t want to keep living this way. With me. And so sometimes, I can’t sleep at night.”

“Gon...”

“I know, it’s irrational. Alluka’s here, and you’d never just abandon her like that.” Gon says softly, quietly, and his voice quivers a little, as though he had been holding on to this doubt, this unease, for so long. “Abandon...us like that. But my mind just won’t stop running sometimes at night and—”

Killua feels his stomach sink, feels his heart ache with the realization that maybe this is about something beyond Killua’s penchant for solo jobs. He wants nothing more than to calm his fears, and he’s not sure if he’ll say the right thing, but he needs Gon to know more than anything how far from the truth he is.

“Gon. Gon, look at me.” He lifts a gentle hand to Gon’s chin and tilts it upwards carefully. Gon’s eyes are wet, eyelashes thick with held tears, and he’s worrying his lip, and Killua feels like he could cry, too. He brings a thumb up to Gon’s mouth where bitten skin has become swollen, a soothing touch, and looks deeply into amber eyes, gaze unwavering and sincere, and perhaps a little glassy. “I don’t always say it, but, you have to know that I’m so happy here, right? That I’m so happy living with you? Being with you?”

Gon’s lips wobble, but his eyes are wide and shining, looking at him with such genuine adoration that Killua feels like all of the oxygen has left his lungs, replaced by something that feels too big to exist in the space of his chest alone. 

“When I’m gone, all I do is think about how much I want to come back.” Killua drops his voice to a soft whisper. “I want to stay with you. More than anything. Leaving you when we were kids was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.”

“It was hard for me, too. But I know it was good for us—good for me. And it’s not just about that if I’m being honest.” Gon says thickly, voice trembling, and he leans his head down into his chest, hair brushing delicately against Killua’s chin. “You just—you mean so much to me. You’re the most important person in my life, and it hurts to imagine one without you in it.”

“You don’t have to, Gon.” Killua noses against his hairline, murmuring quietly. “I want to be with you.”

“Me too.” Gon sniffs, peeking up to look at Killua from beneath his lashes, expression shifting into one of embarrassment, adding a quiet, “I’m sorry.” 

And Killua just holds him tighter, because the apology means Gon might want to let go and float away, might feel uncomfortable baring the inner parts of himself so openly, but Killua won’t let him, because he’s always been the roots that keep Gon on solid ground. 

“There’s really nothing to be sorry about, dummy.”

“Killua.” Gon whispers, takes both sides of his face into his hands, full of awe, pulling Killua down until their foreheads are pressed together. “I still don’t know what I did to deserve you. But. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to do anything, Gon. Just—just be you.” Killua breathes into the space between them. “And for the record, you can borrow my clothes whenever you want. Even when I’m here.”

“You’re the most amazing person I know, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.” Killua unwinds his arms from around Gon in favor of taking both of his hands in his own larger ones, eyes wide and pleading, cheeky. “Will you come back to bed now?”

“Okay.” A smile blossoms on Gon’s lips, his eyes closing into joyful crescents, happiness always painted so beautifully on his face, and Killua is once again left winded with the force of his feelings for him. “Yeah, let’s go.”

The light of dusk gleaming through the curtains dyes Killua a soft orange, patterns flickering against the walls of their bedroom and shifting with passing cars, the sounds of the city a faint buzz.

They’re tangled together on the bed, on the plush, down comforter, and Gon’s hands are twisted into the fabric, trying to find purchase as Killua mouths against the inside of his thigh, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses into the soft, fleshy skin.

Gon’s squirming needily, bare skin on display save for the sweater hiked up his chest, and Killua can tell he’s already so worked up by the way he’s panting and letting out little breathy whines against his crooked fingers, and _god_ , Killua’s barely even touched him yet.

“You’re so sensitive.” Killua mutters, dragging his lips across Gon’s bronze, freckled skin to watch how goosebumps break out in their wake. He wants to draw this out, wants to take his time kissing every inch of Gon, cover him in little purple marks that they’ll both marvel at for days, but all of his little noises are making heat coil fiercely in Killua’s gut, and he’s not sure how much longer he can wait, his restraint like a taut rubber band ready to snap.

“Killua,” Gon breathes out, curling a hand in white hair as Killua kisses his way up the curve of his hip, up the smooth muscles of his belly, up his heaving chest, and takes a rosy nipple between his lips, laving over it slowly. “ _Please_ , Killua.”

“Yeah?” Killua brings his hands up to smooth over Gon’s sides, stroking his ribs reverently, taking a long moment to admire the way Gon looks, his doe eyes blown, pupils immense, his cheeks and ears flushed a sweet pink, his dark hair damp and curled over his forehead. “Tell me what you want.”

“T-Touch me.” Gon manages to whimper out, legs falling open naturally with just the heat of Killua’s gaze raking over his form.

“But I am touching you.” Killua says teasingly, pushing himself to hover over Gon, as if he doesn't know exactly where Gon wants him, where Gon needs him. “I need you to be more specific, Gon.”

Gon makes a noise of frustration, a sharp keen, digging his fingernails lightly into Killua’s broad shoulders, trying to arch closer to the source of heat above him, usually so forthcoming about his wants, but his burning arousal renders him unable to think, mind heady and cloudy and somewhere white hot. And Killua’s nothing if not stubborn, waiting with his arms caged around him, wanting to hear it directly from Gon’s lips. “I want you. _Inside_. Please.”

“ _Fuck_ , okay.” Killua murmurs breathlessly, settling into the cradle of Gon’s spread legs, molding their bodies together like two puzzle pieces that fit only each other, a groan unintentionally falling from his lips from the feeling of Gon’s heated skin on his. 

Gon croons at the feeling of being ground into, of Killua finally so close, and spares no time taking Killua’s face between his hands, placing a hungry kiss to his lips.

They spend what seems like ages like this, Killua’s tongue delving into Gon’s mouth and licking into him, their lips parting in tandem over and over and over again, and Killua thinks he could spend the rest of the night doing just this, until Gon is whining helplessly into the space between them, desperate and wanting.

And then Killua’s making quick work of his own briefs and Gon’s sweater, reaching over with little difficulty to pull a small bottle of lube out of their bedside table, squeezing the cold liquid into his hands so that he can warm it between his fingers.

“I’m going to make sure you sleep _so well_ tonight,” Killua promises, and Gon tries to respond, tries to tell Killua how wonderful he is, how giving, but his voice breaks into a cry when Killua takes him between his lips, sinks down until his nose is pressed against soft hair and warm flesh, and slips a slick finger inside of him, knuckle deep.

Killua drinks in every whimper and mewl and groan, draws the moans from Gon’s lips with his mouth around him, sucking and bobbing slowly, working him open, until Gon is begging for something more, thighs trembling with pleasure, clutching once again at his hair.

Gon has always been vocal, beautifully unashamed in his bliss, always reacting so responsively and perfectly to his every touch, and Killua still finds it so intoxicating knowing that he is the one that gets to make Gon feel so good, gets to touch him like no one has ever touched him before. 

One hand gripping and stilling writhing hips, Killua presses another finger carefully into Gon, and then a third, spurred by Gon's whines, high and needy in the back of his throat. He then pulls his mouth free, concentrating closely on the way Gon's voice hitches, and angles his fingers with expertise, years of experience baked into his muscle memory, until he’s pushing against a spot that sends electricity up the length of Gon’s spine and back down to the curled tips of his toes, and Gon’s throwing his head back, a blubbering mess.

“No more, Killua, _please_.” Gon gasps, gripping strongly at Killua’s shoulders, choking on another moan when Killua continues to press relentlessly against that place inside of him that makes his limbs shake uncontrollably and his vision go fuzzy. “I want you.”

“Okay, okay.” Killua breathes out, chest heaving heavily, clearly just as affected as Gon, and he leans down to kiss Gon sweetly on the lips, swallowing down the noise Gon makes when he draws his fingers from his body. 

It’s only when Gon’s eyes shift lower heatedly that Killua registers that Gon has already slicked up his right hand with lube. "Here, let me," Gon murmurs, short-winded. And then he’s gathering Killua into his hand, coating him thoroughly, and the feeling is so abrupt that it startles a moan out of Killua's lips.

When Gon finally removes his hand from him, Killua breathes out shakily in anticipation, grabbing the back of Gon’s right knee to pull him closer, open him up wider.

“You ready, Gon?” Killua asks softly, fingers reaching to thread Gon’s with his own near dark locks strewn on the tousled bedspread, and his lips break into a small smile when Gon nods his head vehemently in affirmation, taking it as his cue to continue. 

Killua keeps his eyes on Gon’s face as he pushes into him slowly, fights against the need to squeeze his eyes shut else he miss the way Gon’s mouth falls open and his lashes flutter closed, and he can feel Gon’s whole body quivering against him, taking gasping breaths to adjust.

And before Killua can whisper to Gon in apology like he wants to, careful and cautious of their two week separation, Gon’s pulling him down with his free hand and slotting their lips together instead, kissing him gently, and then asking him to move.

They move achingly slowly, Killua thrusting in deeply and taking his time so that he can savor the feeling of Gon around him, watch Gon fall apart with every push and pull against his sweet spot, fill him so fully and completely so that Gon can feel only him, think only about him. 

“Feel good?” Killua pants out, voice hoarse from exertion and keeping a steady, controlled pace, his hands curving around Gon’s waist and the arch of his back, holding him securely.

“S-so good, Killua I—” Gon manages through a cry, hips stuttering when he feels Killua drag against his inner walls just right, his hands frantically holding on to Killua’s upper arms. “I-I love you."

Killua feels his breath punched out of him at the words, and he can do nothing but hide his face in the space between Gon’s neck and shoulder, heart beating wildly in his chest. He thrusts even harder then, but just as slow, reaching one hand down to curl around Gon’s length, stroking until Gon’s throwing his head back, toes curled and Killua’s name loud on his lips, painting his stomach white.

Killua finishes with a loud groan not long after, pressing as deep inside as he can get, shuddering blissfully against Gon. And Gon just holds him through it, brushing back Killua’s sweat-matted bangs with a tender hand and stars in his eyes.

They stay there for a moment, both trying to catch their breath, bodies rapidly cooling, but sated and floating.

Content.

In due time, Killua will get up to fetch a towel and clean both of them up thoroughly, perhaps even convince Gon to shower with him, but first he lifts his head and brushes his lips against Gon’s forehead softly, finally whispers, “I love you, too."

And Gon just lights up in that way he does when he’s going to say something extremely affectionate and most definitely overwhelming, so Killua surges forward once more, gathering him into another deep, drawn out kiss.

Many hours later, when the morning light’s once again spilling in through opened curtains, brushing them both in ribbons of gold, Gon and Killua remain sleeping, wrapped in each other’s arms.

“Okay, I have to know. If you like my smell so much, what do I smell like?”

“Killua!”

“What? Haven’t you been curious about what you smell like?”

“No and I refuse to tell you. You’re going to tease me about it, I know you.”

“That’s what you _think_ , but I won’t. Now c’mon, tell me.”

“Will you promise not to make fun of me if I do?”

“I promise.”

“You smell like—like home.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty embarrassing.”

“ _Killua!_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m kind of in love with the idea that Gon finds comfort in wearing Killua’s clothing when he’s away, so my hands slipped a little while writing this and this story got a bit out-of-hand. This is extremely self-indulgent, and I believe there are other killugon fics that explore Gon’s relationship to smell, but I thought I would share a take that is hopefully unique! 
> 
> I also want to stress that Killua is in no way solving Gon's abandonment issues, but rather he's giving Gon space to be openly vulnerable and providing verbal reassurance when he feels it's needed — Gon will heal from this through his own self-work and time.
> 
> This is the first fic I’ve ever written, so I’d really love to hear your thoughts (but please be gentle with me)!
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read this and I really, really hope you enjoyed!!!


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